


Loving You Raw

by valentangelo



Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Play, BDSM, Bad Decisions, Biting, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Choking, Cock Worship, Collars, Condoms, Creampie, Cunnilingus, Daddy Issues, Daddy Kink, Dom/sub, Drunk Sex, Dry Humping, Eventual Romance, Guilt, Hand Jobs, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Jealousy, Knifeplay, Making Out, OC is DFAB, OC is a switch, Other, Pablo is in his 20's because who knows how old he is???, Pegging, Polyamorous Character, Praise Kink, Rope Bondage, Safe Sane and Consensual, Self-Insert, Slow Burn, Sort of? - Freeform, Strap-Ons, The sex is NOT slow burn it's the rest of the relationship that has to catch up, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, this is all Secretary (2002)'s fault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:21:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23273137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valentangelo/pseuds/valentangelo
Summary: Val is Morgan's best friend, and Morgan is a dirty, horny traitor, because who else would fuck their best friend's estranged father when asked to keep an eye on him?It started innocently enough, with a business trip and a chance for catharsis, but Robert is every inch his daughter's father - only with more leather, more stubble, and as Morgan learns, a lot less impulse control. But Morgan is damaged, and so is he, and against their better judgment, they find themselves drawn to each other again and again, slowly running out of reasons to resist the pull of fate - or whatever it is that keeps throwing them together.Since this is a long work with a lot of smut, I've separated the sex scenes into their own labeled chapters - so you can peruse them at your leisure or skip them without losing the plot. Be aware that even non-sex scenes have NSFW elements! Read this fic on your own time ;)Morgan is nonbinary, taking testosterone, and not pursuing top or bottom surgery. There will be talk of breasts, variously-gendered terms of endearment, and use of the words "pussy," "clit," "boobs," etc. I made an effort to incorporate safe sexual practices, both in vanilla and BDSM contexts. That's it! Enjoy!
Relationships: Pablo (Dream Daddy)/Reader, Robert Small/Original Character(s), Robert Small/Reader
Kudos: 24





	1. Chapter 1

"How awkward was that?"  
"Oh God, so awkward. I ate so much stress calamari."  
"Yeah, how was that?"  
Morgan grimaced. "Awful."  
Val laughed. "I bet." She paused. "I knew the first meeting would be kind of a shitshow. Honestly, it wasn't that bad. I'm glad you were there." She smiled at Morgan. "Without you, we would've just sat in silence, drinking."  
"Nooo, and you can't have that. That shit's for hookups you're already planning to regret."  
Val laughed again. "Yeah...yeah," she continued more seriously, "and I did not want to regret this."  
"He wasn't expecting me."  
"That was intentional."  
"Gotta catch him off guard. Force him to be polite before he can do the...thing."  
"Yeah - "  
A car with a glowing sticker on the windshield pulled up to the curb, and its driver leaned out the window. "Morgan?"  
"That's me."  
"Great. Hop in."  
"Honestly, fresh meat to mess with was the best peace offering I could think of," Val went on as they buckled up.  
Morgan gasped exaggeratedly, clapping a hand to their chest. "Is that how you see me? As a bargaining chip?"  
"Hey! You said you were in for anything!"  
"I can't even look at you right now." They feigned a sob. "Now I know how C-3PO felt."  
"You should bring that stuff out with Dad. He'll eat it up."  
"Really? Seems to me like he'd hate it."  
"Maybe, but he'll have fun either way." A passing streetlamp made Val's eyes gleam and illuminated her smirk.  
"Ugh, very well," said Morgan with mock resentment, sinking back into the car seat. "Your wish is my command."  
"And don't you forget it."

Morgan dragged into their room and flopped into bed. They checked their phone. Was it really that late? They scrolled mindlessly through cooking videos, thinking about dinner. The look Robert had given them when Val introduced them was stomach-turningly piercing. He was stiff as a board as he shook their hand, and remained the same way through Bappletizers, side-eyeing them every chance he got. Morgan had expected to be...they didn't know, exactly; a spectator? No, but certainly more of a buffer than an actual target. The energy between Robert and Val was heavy with an almost competitive tension. It wasn't a surprise; Morgan knew Val's personality, had heard just about everything she had to say about her father; they could put two and two together and predict - whatever this was, but bearing witness to it was different. They ate greasy CaliMari as hurriedly and quietly as possible while the two went through the motions of father-daughter small talk with visible reluctance. Then their Bappleburger and Twirly Fries arrived. Val stared the fries down as if she expected them to get up and dance.  
Then she said, "Remember when we came to Bappletee's for my eleventh birthday and I ate so many of these I threw up?"  
Robert's mouth twisted without his permission. He actually let out...a chuckle? Certainly a dry little puff of air escaped him. He lost the battle, or maybe remembered how a smile worked. Uh-oh. Morgan's heart jumped. He had Val's open, sideways smile, easy and utterly disarming. "How could I forget?" he asked her wryly. Morgan laughed loudly and took a bite of their Bappleburger. This was a bad idea. The deep-set eyes were leveled at them once again.  
"So, how did you meet my daughter?" he asked them. The last two words had a rusty, uncertain quality to them. Morgan's mouth was completely full.  
"They started off modeling for me," Val explained.  
"Really?" Robert's eyes were still on Morgan. They gave him a hamster-cheeked smile and a nod.  
"We met on Timber."  
" _Really?_ " Finally his attention went back to Val, although his eyes skated over their face once more with renewed interest. Sweet perfect superhero Val, how would they ever thank her? They swallowed. Jesus.  
But the tension was broken. They all started swapping stories, reminiscing. Robert hedged unsubtly around any questions about what he was doing with his time in Maple Bay. The wacky stories Val had warned Morgan to expect wormed their way into the conversation - he was hunting ghosts; he had built a motorcycle; he had gotten a scar in 'Nam - this one addressed specifically to Morgan, who listened raptly as he explained the ritual hazing by bayonet meant to test double agents' mettle until Val cut in.  
"Morgan knows you got that scar flipping over your handlebars, Dad."  
"Oh?" He stared them down again with a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. Morgan shrugged. It was a good story.  
"And they know that you made me sit shotgun while you drove yourself to the hospital to make sure you didn't pass out at the wheel."  
Val's tone had gone from teasing to serious. Robert's face fell. He sighed.  
"Yeah."  
Morgan blinked. Had he - ?  
"I know. I'm sorry, kiddo."  
Kiddo?  
Val bit the inside of her lip, and everything was quiet for a minute. The conversation started again somehow, although without the same buoyancy. Robert insisted on covering the check. Finally, they all shuffled outside together.  
"It was good to meet you, Morgan," said Robert, and shook their hand with genuine warmth. They could feel every callus and scar that marred the firm flesh of his palm. Oh, fuck.  
He turned toward Val. "Good to see you tonight."  
"Yeah." She paused, shifting her weight uncertainly. "I've, um...I've missed you, Dad," she said.  
"I'm gonna go call the Tuber," interrupted Morgan, and hurriedly escaped to a safe distance. Both Val and Robert looked relieved, they thought. Or hoped. When they glanced back again, they were attempting a hug. As much as their estrangement, their shared height seemed to make a puzzle of the act. It was very sweet. When Val came over to Morgan, her eyes were wet. She took a shaky breath and injected her voice with bravado.  
"How awkward was that?"  
So awkward, thought Morgan again. So very especially awkward because their best friend's alcoholic dad was...  
They didn't wanna think about it.

But in the next couple days they couldn't _stop_ thinking about it. The next day, Val and Robert went out for coffee. "I thought I'd show you two a nice dinner spot in my neighborhood tonight," he suggested casually when he came to pick her up.  
"That sounds great!" Morgan exclaimed, and then spent the whole morning trying not to overthink it. At what point do you disclose to your friend that you think her dad is...that he's...? Ugh, but that was bad friend territory, right? Horndog friend. The thing Morgan was trying very hard not to be despite a near-inability to connect with people their own age and a six-month dry spell. Actually, if you counted the time they'd been in their last relationship but still not gotten any, it was what, almost nine?  
They dropped their head into their hands with a groan. Shit.  
Robert's little local joint was a tiny, intimate French bistro. The lighting was dim and warm, the food was amazing, and their knees kept bumping his under the table. Double triple fuck shit ass, they were in trouble.  
Otherwise, dinner went well - there was wine instead of Bappletinis; a good start, and they noticed Val watching her father's glass, but he was showing restraint. The conversation went smoothly enough that they all agreed to order dessert.  
"Holy shit," Morgan blurted as they scanned the menu, "lavender crème bruleé."  
"Oh, I remember learning how to make that," Robert said in a voice tinged with nostalgia. He leaned back in his chair and his knee brushed Morgan's again. God was testing them. "The best stuff comes from Bruxelles. That's what it's named for, you know."  
"Really?" Morgan asked innocently.  
"Oh, yeah. Spent a year there working odd jobs in a bistro a lot like this. The chef de patisserie liked me. Taught me everything he knew. Said I was like a son to him. Cried my eyes out when he died."  
Morgan nodded solemnly. "It's a beautiful place," they offered.  
"Absolutely stunning."  
"I have family up there." They took a prim sip of their wine and watched a flicker of surprise cross his face.  
"Really?" he asked, a little too intently.  
"No." They grinned. "But my mom spent a few years in France with my dad and older siblings. I know 'brulée' means 'burnt.'"  
"Oof." Robert put up his hands. "You got me."  
"Morgan actually speaks ten languages," said Val.  
"Bullshit." Robert crossed his arms, but he looked curious.  
Morgan shrugged humbly. "I'm learning."  
"Which languages?"  
They counted them up on their fingers. "French, Spanish, German, Italian, Latin, Irish, Gaelic, Russian, and Japanese."  
"That's nine."  
"I'm fluent in English."  
He let out a short bark of a laugh. "Fair enough. That's pretty impressive."  
"Thanks." Morgan laughed nervously and ducked their head to take another sip of wine.

"Val?" they asked later, as they flopped on the couch together, enjoying the wine buzz.  
"Yeah?"  
"Don't hate me..."  
"Oh, God."  
"Pleeeeease?"  
"No promises."  
"Ugh, that's fair."  
Morgan paused, screwing up their courage.  
"...your dad's kinda hot."  
From the other end of the couch, Val giggled. "What?!"  
"Val." Morgan enunciated mock-seriously. "Your. Dad. Is."  
"No! Don't say it again!"  
"I'm just speaking the truth."  
"No. Cease. Do not."  
They were both laughing now. "It's my duty."  
"Sshhh. God, I should have expected this. You were the worst person to ask for moral support."  
"I gave you my couch. For free."  
"That is not enough to justify fucking my dad."  
"Okay, hey now, I didn't say _anything_ about fucking him!"  
Val laughed again. "I know, I know, but I had to."  
"You mock my pain."  
Val lifted her head and frowned. "Wait, no, which one is that?"  
" _The Princess Bride._ "  
"Mmm. Right."  
They leaned into each other sleepily. Val's hand plopped, slightly clumsily, onto Morgan's. "I've missed hanging out with you," she said.  
"I've missed you, too."  
"I can't believe you wanna fuck my dad."  
"Stop! I should never have confided in you. I will never be free."  
"Nope. I'm holding this over your head till you die."  
"You'll never pull it off."  
"I do have the height advantage." She smirked.  
"Oh, that is it." Morgan prodded her in the side, eliciting a yelp.  
"No! My weakness! You promised!"  
"I said I wouldn't tell Jenna. I didn't say anything about showing you mercy myself."  
They tickled her relentlessly until they both fell back on the couch, breathless from laughter. "Ugh," Val groaned. "Felled by my own hubris."  
"Hey, Val."  
"Mm?"  
"Your dad is hot."  
"Shut up!"  
Morgan giggled.

They had hoped that lounging on the couch until they were past exhausted would kill the nagging, horny urge building in the back of their mind. It did not. They trailed to bed, relishing the first cool touch of the sheets and the enveloping warmth of the covers, and just as their head drooped onto the pillow, there it was. Shit. Morgan had fought this battle before and never won. Jerking off was a delicate game of patience and pressure with their randy lizard brain as its leering referee; if they tried to get this out of the way they'd get nowhere; if they tried to ignore it they'd never get to sleep. They groaned and buried their face in the cool fluff of the pillow, resigning themself to the flood of unbidden images now churning through their mind: callused hands caressing and gripping; a stubbly, triumphant grin; a deep, breathy moan. "Fuck," Morgan hissed into the pillow, half angry, half horny. They worked a hand under their waistband.  
Morgan wasn't new to masturbating, exactly, but they considered themself a late bloomer. Which was funny, they thought, because they didn't have conservative parents - but they had been too busy fighting for custody to give Morgan any insight into their changing body, not to mention the horrors of middle school, college or job applications, or...anything about how to live, really. For a long time after Morgan first discovered porn, they just read it intently, clamping their thighs together without really understanding what they were feeling. They finally learned about jerking off from Bumblr sometime in their mid-teens. It still felt like a vulnerable act, almost too private even for an empty room. They'd ruined a session or two by getting too far inside their own head.  
Everything was wet and hypersensitive down there, their clit jolting when they brushed a finger across it. They imagined Robert fingering them and oh shit! They jerked their fingers away, gasping. This might be over faster than they'd expected. They bit their lip and went back in, trying to conjure the exact image that had completed the circuit - Robert's hand slipping into their jeans, his fingers probing, circling, his eyes boring into theirs, fuck! There it was. They drew out the feeling, tensing with focus. Morgan liked narrative, the escalation from flirting to teasing to foreplay to sex, but without erotica in front of them, their mind couldn't keep it together. They floated between images instead, building the most evocative ones into a repeating slideshow - their hips in his grip, his fingers circling, the look in his eyes, his breath on their neck - cutting back and forth between them while they rushed towards climax. Finally they saw it coming like the surface of the pool when you step off the edge. They let out the breath they were holding. This was the best part, when they could relax into the wave of orgasm as it hit, coasting through it into the aftershocks like a swimmer caught in the wake of a motorboat. When it was over they lay panting and heavy, sleep finally soaking into their contented skull. God, they felt good.  
They dreamed about fucking him.  
God, they were in trouble.

On her last full day, Val went for lunch with Robert and stayed out for hours. Sometime after five Morgan texted her, "Where r u??" It took her a bit to respond.  
"Still with Dad lol. Lots of talking."  
"Good?"  
"Yeah :) intense tho. Might be AWOL."  
"Kk, have a good time 💖"  
"♥️  
Text u when I'm done"  
Morgan was half-asleep watching The Barefoot Contessa when she came back. "Hey." They lifted their head from their nest of pillows. "How'd it go?"  
"It was good." Val smiled weakly.  
"You look exhausted. What time is it?"  
"Eight?" Val checked her phone. "Eight seventeen. Fuck."  
"You guys had a lot to talk about."  
"Yeah."  
"Still good?"  
"Yeah." The smile kept hovering around Val's lips. She looked sort of...unburdened. She plopped down next to Morgan. "What are we watching?"  
"Um..." Morgan squinted at the TV. "I don't know. Ina Garten making way too much party food to share with just her wholesome gay couple friends."  
"Sounds aspirational."  
"I sure as fuck aspire to it."  
Val laughed and kicked her shoes off, stretching her toes and sinking deeper into the couch. "Fuck, that feels good. I walked in these all day."  
"See, that's why sneakers are such an essential part of my brand."  
They settled into a comfortable silence until Ina started chopping vegetables again. "Fuck, the sound engineering is good," Morgan exclaimed.  
"This is what ASMR is supposed to be."  
"Abso-fucking-lutely."  
Morgan realized an episode or two later that Val had gone quiet. They looked over; she had curled into the corner of the couch, head drooping. They went over and touched her shoulder. "Hey."  
"Hmm?"  
"You tired? I can move."  
"No, it's okay...what time is it?"  
"Nine."  
"What? I don't wanna kick you off the couch."  
"You had a big day, dude. I have stuff I can do till bedtime. Also a chair."  
Val relented. Morgan tossed the comforter over her as she stretched out on the couch and went into the kitchen to get some writing done.  
Val's flight was in the evening, so the next day was lazy. She had her bags packed by the time Morgan woke up and was sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee, playing on her phone.  
"Hey." They squinted at her blearily. "When'd you get up?"  
"Like seven. I honestly slept longer than I expected."  
"Well, you needed it." Morgan stretched and shuffled over to the fridge for eggs. "What'd you guys talk about for eight hours?"  
"Everything." Val laughed. "We talked about Mom. We, um...we never talked to each other...you know, when it happened." Her voice thickened. "I think it made what I was feeling seem sort of...unreal. Because it was all just floating around in my head."  
"Oh, Val..." Morgan set the eggs down and moved toward her.  
"It's okay," she said, accepting their stooped, sideways hug. "It was really cathartic. We talked about his drinking and everything. I told him I still needed a dad to...to have around, to be proud of me and everything, even though I'm an adult and handling life on my own. He said..." She took a deep breath and drew her palm across one eye. "He said he was really proud of me." Her face twisted and she bit her lip.  
Morgan squeezed her shoulder, their own eyes watering. "That's great, Val. He should be. You're doing amazing."  
"I know." She laughed shakily. "But it was really good to hear from him." She wiped her eyes again. "He said he can't promise to get his shit together, but he promises to keep in touch. What can ya do?"  
"Next time you can bully him into getting a therapist."  
"Oh, and I absolutely will."  
"One step at a time."  
"Yeah."  
Val looked up at Morgan. "Are you crying?"  
"You know I'm tender! We were having a moment!"  
"I know! I know," she hugged Morgan again, laughing. "You're turning me soft."  
"I thought Liz said that was a good thing."  
"I know...and she's right. It's the only reason I reached out." She took a deep breath and slapped her hands down on the table. "Ok. That's enough emotional vulnerability for today. Eat your eggs."  
They lounged around the house all morning, doing nothing in particular. At one point, Val looked over from the TV to Morgan, who was hunched over their phone, typing furiously. "Whatcha writing?"  
They looked up with a grin. "Porn."  
"Classic."  
"Somebody's gotta do it."

Sometime around four, they headed for Robert's. They were all taking a last walk around his neighborhood together - a cozy cul-de-sac within easy reach of a few bars, cafés, and parks. "That way I can say goodbye to you together without you both having to come to the airport," Val had explained.  
Morgan didn't get it. "It'd save you a Tuber trip if I just drove you. It's not like we're gonna drink." But she insisted, so Morgan let it go. Still, it was weird. They wouldn't have minded dropping Robert off at his place after, and they figured the reverse was true. Maybe she was just trying to spare them the awkward car ride.  
The neighborhood was gorgeous in the late afternoon light. Robert led them to a cute café with a cute barista. The ends of their long hair were dyed a vivid kelp green, and they were wearing a once-black T-shirt so destroyed by scissors and bleach that its screenprinted logo was no longer decipherable. Morgan squinted up at the menu. "Uh...are all these drinks band puns?"  
"They sure are."  
"Oh, God." They stepped back from the counter. "You guys should go first. This will take me forever."  
Robert quirked an eyebrow and stepped up. "Black coffee," he said.  
The barista frowned. "Uh, would that be a Godspeed You! Black Coffee or an Americano Football?"  
"...the first one."  
"Size?"  
"Medium."  
"Cool! Are you guys all together?"  
Robert nodded. Val ordered a slice of Banana Bread Kennedys. "Ok, I'm definitely having one of those," Morgan said. "That sounds good as hell."  
"Anything to drink?"  
"Uh...God. I guess I'll have an...MGMTea?"  
"Flavor?"  
They squinted at their options. "Uh...Earl Grey, Wind, and Fire. Small."  
"Cool!" The barista beamed. "It'll be out in a sec."  
Morgan retreated back to Val's side as Robert stepped forward to pay and muttered, "That was the most difficult decision I've ever made."  
"You could have ordered anything, you know."  
"False. My musical loyalties can never be called into question."  
They took their drinks to go. Robert had mentioned a dog park and immediately piqued Morgan's interest. As they stepped outside, he said "I hate ordering from that place."  
"Why go, then?"  
"Coffee's fucking good," he said, emphasizing his point by taking a sip and sighing pleasurably. "Oh, yeah. Mat knows what he's doing with his tools, if not his brand. Young guy. Single dad."  
"So you guys have one thing in common," Val commented.  
"Two. His daughter is growing into a helluva little smartass." Robert took another sip of his coffee, a smirk playing about the corners of his mouth.  
The park wasn't far. It was just filling up with pet owners getting off work and their many squirming, furry children. They found a bench to sit on and Morgan did a circuit of the park, winding puppies up with pets and coos.  
"Morgan - there is dirt all over you," Val said when they circled back for their tea and banana bread. They looked down at their T-shirt. Many scrabbling paws' worth of rust and green stripes ran down the front.  
They grinned. "That's love dirt. I'll wear it proudly."  
They lingered in the park until the sun began to sink, painting everything pink and gold, and then walked leisurely back to Robert's. Val checked her phone. "I should call the Tuber," she said.  
Robert nodded. "I'll get your bags."  
"Thanks, Dad."  
They waited out on the sidewalk together until a silver car pulled up to collect Val. Morgan helped deposit her bags in the trunk, and they all said their goodbyes.  
"Hurry back," Morgan said.  
She laughed. "I'll do my best. Have a good time at dinner." Morgan felt their smile tighten. What? "What'd you make, Dad?"  
Robert's eyes flicked between them. "Coq au vin."  
"Oh, man," said Val, too casually. "I'm jealous." She wrapped Morgan in a hug. "Keep an eye on him, okay?" she murmured.  
Morgan swallowed their protests and squeezed back. "I will," they said with forced cheeriness.  
"Good. Love you, Dad." Val turned to hug him and then hopped in the car, shooting Morgan one last look. What the fuck had she gotten them into?! They waved the Tuber away halfheartedly, feeling bewildered.  
"So, she didn't tell you," Robert said as soon as it was out of sight. Oh, thank God, he could tell.  
"Nnnnope."  
“I raised her well." He turned towards Morgan, hands in the pockets of his jacket. "Shall we?"  
"Uh...sure," said Morgan, and followed him inside. They whipped out their phone the second his back was turned and texted Val, "WTF!" before stuffing it quickly back in their pocket. Now they just had to get through dinner with their dignity intact. Dinner with their best friend's hot dad. In his house. Alone.  
Great. They were gonna look like an idiot.  
"You into cinema?" he asked casually as he helped them out of their jacket.  
"Uh..." Morgan had learned from a handful of dates with artsy hipster types that this was a question that could lead absolutely anywhere. They hurriedly sorted out the possibilities. "Into cinema as in Kubrick or Hitchcock...or...Spielberg...or...Star Wars or Disney or Marvel?"  
Oh God, they sounded stupid. One of Robert's eyebrows arched farther and farther as they added to the list. "Let's say somewhere in the intersection of Hitchcock, Spielberg, and Star Wars."  
"Oh! Then yes."  
"Great. I'll let you pick something out, then." He led them to a bank of shelves in the living room. "I'm gonna check on dinner." He disappeared through an open doorway into what Morgan assumed was the kitchen. They scanned the shelves - holy shit. His DVD collection was straight out of _The Holiday_. Morgan browsed curiously, trying to determine his sorting system. _The Shining_ was between _Inglourious Basterds_ and _Ocean's Eleven_. On another shelf they found _Oh Brother, Where Art Thou?_ , _Get Out_ , and... _Hairspray_. Two copies of _Hairspray_? It looked like the original and the 2012 remake. Damn. Behind them they heard Robert emerge from the kitchen and start setting things out on the coffee table. The room began to fill with the familiar smell of cooked wine. Oh, fuck yeah.  
"Find anything good?" he asked, suddenly very close to their ear. Morgan jumped. Robert chuckled. "Sorry."  
"It's okay." Their face was flaming. "You have quite the collection."  
"Keeps me out of trouble." Morgan raised their eyebrows. "Keeps me out of...more trouble," Robert amended. They grinned at him and looked over the movies again. Something caught their eye.  
" _Secretary_?"  
"You've seen it?"  
"I love it."  
"The ending wasn't too sappy for you?"  
"Oh, way too sappy. I like that she shows agency. I love 'Des Moines, Iowa.' But yeah, it's a lot, with the orchids and the claw foot tub and everything. I haven't seen it in a couple years," they said thoughtfully.  
"Me neither," said Robert, pulling it off the shelf.  
Wait. He moved over towards the TV. Wait wait wait. Morgan's mind was buzzing. Oh, God. They were gonna watch the kinky James Spader movie with their friend's hot dad. He slid it into the DVD player and moved to a bar in the corner of the room to pour them wine. _They were gonna watch the kinky James Spader movie with their friend's hot dad and a bottle of fucking wine._ Morgan's whole body tensed like a guitar string.  
Okay. Okay, well, they'd just have to keep their head on straight.  
They sat down and ran their palms nervously over their jeans, eyeing the food Robert had brought out warily, as if it might pounce on them. It smelled fucking amazing. Their stomach gurgled.  
The wine he set down in front of them on the coffee table was a deep blood red. Automatically they picked up the glass and swirled it under their nose. Its scent was as rich as its color. Despite their nerves, they couldn’t help but appreciate the fine ring it left just above the pour line as they swirled it - damn. This stuff was gonna be amazing; probably strong, too. Hesitantly, they took a tiny sip and hummed appreciatively. It was rich and mellow, with a dry kick after they swallowed it.  
"What do you think?"  
"That...is good wine," they said, too caught up in the experience to overthink the idea of Robert watching them try it. Or...to overthink it too much, at least.  
"Glad you like it." He shifted beside them, getting comfortable on the couch. Morgan nodded absently and took a nervous bite of chicken. Holy shit that was good. They swallowed tightly. Too bad they were too wound up to enjoy it. "You know, you could've begged off."  
"What?" Morgan looked over to find Robert looking directly at them. Oh, fuck, how long had that been happening?  
He ran a hand through his hair. "You, uh, didn't have to stick around. I know hanging out with some fogey you barely know isn't the average twenty-something's ideal Saturday night."  
"Oh - " Morgan didn't know how to respond. "I mean, I...I don't mind being here," they managed, poking at the mess of chicken and vegetables on their plate. They were so hungry.  
"Really?" He gave them a dry look. "Because you don't seem all that comfortable."  
They blushed furiously. "I guess I just find you sort of..." _Masculine. Funny. Hot._ "...intimidating. I'm not sure how to behave without Val around."  
He half-laughed. "Yeah. Me neither. I was just getting the hang of behaving with her." He sucked in his cheeks. "I'm sure she's talked to you about...how I've been. I have no idea why she suggested this."  
"Um...I think she kinda wanted me to keep an eye on you." Morgan took a deep breath. "She...she does talk about you. She misses you. She worries about you all the time. She doesn't wanna lose you."  
Robert averted his eyes. "So that makes you what, the babysitter?"  
"I don't know, man, I think I'm just her friend who lives near here who gets her weird sense of humor and - and doesn't have anything better to do on a Saturday night than sit on a leather couch drinking good-ass wine and eating food they didn't have to cook."  
That got another chuckle out of him. He rolled his glass between his palms for a minute, pondering. "All right, fair enough. How about we cut a deal? I'll stop being your best friend's dad, and you stop being my daughter's best friend, and instead we can be a middle-aged alcoholic and a directionless youth enjoying some quality cinema. Sound good?"  
Morgan nodded. "Sounds great." They clinked glasses and Morgan hurriedly downed theirs. Robert quirked an eyebrow and silently refilled it before getting up to turn off the lights and starting the movie. Morgan still perched absurdly on the edge of his black leather couch, afraid of getting too comfortable. They tended to watch movies this way, anyway - leaning forward, analytical, drinking in every detail they could hone in on. With a really good one, there was always something new to take in; a pattern in the colors of the costumes, a subtle narrative thread. Or they could just watch every variation of Maggie Gyllenhaal and James Spader's o-faces. Don't say anything, don't say anything, don't show how turned on you are...  
They did great, actually, until The Scene - the cringe-inducing travesty of a sexual experience that Maggie has with her "real" boyfriend, stone-faced as he wriggles on top of her, gasping like a fish. "Oh, God," Morgan exclaimed, drawing back as though they could create physical distance between themself and his wildly pawing hands.  
"Familiar?" Robert asked. Oh, God. At least he couldn't see them blush in the dark.  
"A little, yeah," they admitted. "Her whole family thing is kind of..." Nope, wait. Nope. Not going there. "...yeah, a little bit."  
Robert whistled. "Yikes. My condolences." He tilted his head. "You really like that wine, huh?"  
They looked down at their glass. Empty again. _Meep._ "Yeah, um...my wine budget is usually in the single digits, so..."  
He laughed and reached for the bottle. "Ah, youth. Full of cheap wine and cheaper thrills."  
Morgan grimaced. "Not for me. Drinking alone is as cheap and thrilling as it gets."  
"You're speakin' my language, kid. Bottoms up." He filled their glass higher this time, past the halfway point - nearly to the brim. Morgan peered into its depths, chewing their lip. Maybe it was time to relax.  
"God, James Spader is hot," they sighed the next time he came on screen.  
"Have you seen _Sex, Lies and Videotape_?"  
"No, just read about it."  
"He really pulls off the mullet."  
They laughed into their wine. "Oh, yeah?"  
"Yeah..." Morgan felt Robert's attention shift. They knew why - they had been talking without turning away from the screen. It was The Scene - the other Scene, the hot one, the one where he...  
"Fuck," they blurted softly. Why wasn't porn ever this well-shot? Why didn't porn stars wear more lavender blouses? Why did they agree to watch this movie with - they chanced a sideways look at Robert and their eyes met. Morgan's heart skipped a beat. They jerked their eyes too quickly back to the screen, holding their breath. Maggie Gyllenhaal's face froze in an expression of ecstasy. It took Morgan a second to realize Robert had hit pause and was looking at them oddly.  
"You okay?" he asked. Exclamation points pinged wildly off the inside of Morgan's skull.  
"Yeah!" they chirped quickly. "Just...um..." There was no explanation that was gonna get them out of this, was there? They trailed off and a heavy silence fell, broken only by the hammering of their heart in their chest. Morgan had the sense they were sizing each other up. Slowly - or was it the adrenaline that made it seem that way? - Robert leaned forward and ran a hand over their knee, gently taking their wine glass with the other. Morgan was transfixed by the hungry look in his eyes, dimly aware of his hands sliding up their thighs; had his face been that close a second ago? And then his lips were on theirs, warm and rough, his stubble grazing their jaw, and the world started melting around them. They moaned involuntarily into his mouth, their hands moving automatically to grip his wrists, and he sighed in response, his teeth grazing over their lower lip. In the back of their mind, Morgan was doing the math, trying to determine how much of this they could blame on the wine given how badly they'd wanted it sober.  
Meanwhile what started hesitantly took on more and more urgency. Robert hooked a hand under Morgan's knee and scooped them onto the couch, his chest pressing against theirs, his tongue in their mouth, his hips between their thighs, shit! Morgan gasped as his hard-on grazed them through their jeans, and suddenly they were dry-humping like teenagers. His mouth found their jaw, then their neck, biting down hard enough to cut through the endorphin rush and set stars popping behind Morgan's eyes. They cursed and clutched his shoulder, winding their other hand tightly into his hair. Oh, fuck, they were gonna have a hickey there, a thought that turned them on as much as the pain itself. His fingers crawled up under their shirt, gripping flesh, playing under the band of their bra - "I need you to fuck me," they gasped suddenly and very, very stupidly.  
Robert pulled away from their neck. "Condoms are upstairs."  
"Okay."  
"You sure?"  
"Yes," they blurted intensely.  
His lips parted as he studied their face. Then, seeming to come to a decision, he sat back, grabbed their hips, and tugged them into his lap, groping at their ass and dragging their crotch over his as he gave them another deep, wet kiss that set their head spinning.  
"Let's go," he said.  
Morgan's heart started jumping again. Were they really gonna do this? a part of them wondered, but the answer, loud and clear from their wine-soaked brain, was already drowning it out. They clambered out of his lap and took his extended hand, stumbling after him up the stairs and into his room.


	2. Sex Scene - drunk, rough missionary, brief cunnilingus, biting, condoms, light d/s

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first encounter - short and...well, not sweet, exactly...

They were both in a hurry. He tugged them to his chest and they staggered together towards the bed, his hands groping up under their shirt and tugging it up with their bra in one go. He pulled away just long enough to shuck off his shirt while they wrestled with theirs, then locked his lips onto theirs again, cupping their ass with one hand and fumbling for the drawer of his bedside table with the other.   
"Lie down," he demanded hoarsely, and Morgan pulled aside the covers and practically leapt into his bed, undoing their pants button as they wriggled into position. In a flash he was between their knees, tugging their waistband down. He buried his face in their pussy and dragged his tongue over it: once, twice, three times, making them cry out; tugged their clit into his mouth and released it as fast as he had started. "Sloppy," he growled. "Just how I like it." He tore the condom packet open with his teeth - the foil gleaming mesmerizingly in the light of the streetlamps outside - rolled it over his dick, then positioned himself over them, arms planted on either side of their waist. His mouth came down by their ear. "Are you ready for me to wreck this pussy?"  
Morgan felt goosebumps rise over their whole body. "Yeah," they gasped, neck arching towards his hot breath.  
"Good." His mouth came down on theirs again, their taste sharp on his wet lips, and he ran the tip of his dick up their slit and set them quaking with anticipation - and then he was in. Morgan's mind went blank with pleasure as he took them. Dimly, through the haze of endorphins and the overwhelming _rightness_ of being filled, they heard themselves cursing and crying out for him, realized they had locked their legs around his hips without even thinking. Their hand was tangled in his hair and he was pressed against them, slamming his hips into theirs, his mouth on every inch of their neck and chest he could reach, and God, _God,_ it felt so horribly, desperately, achingly good. They could hear his breath growing ragged as he built towards climax, and they suddenly regretted that he was wearing a condom. They wanted to feel him cum inside them, coat them with his desperate heat. "Cum," they heard themself gasping. "Cum in me, fill me up, fuck, I'm gonna - "  
"Say my name," he panted in their ear. "I wanna hear you cum for me."  
They were so close; they could feel the wave about to break, their pussy clenching as it sought friction, and - "Fuck, fuck, _fuck, Robert!_ " Their fingernails dug into his back and clung for dear life as they spasmed around the thickness inside them. "Fuck, Robert, fuck, your dick feels so good," they babbled, the syllables slurring drunkenly as the wave tapered off.  
" _Shit,_ " he hissed, and latched onto their jaw as he slammed into them with a shudder, moaning against their skin as he came with long, pulsing strokes. Morgan moaned with him, drinking in his release, their body slack and accepting, still jittery with aftershocks. Perfect, it was perfect, the feel of him. They might just pass out from the pleasure of it. Finally he slowed, drooping onto them with a sigh. Morgan's fingers were still curled in his hair, and they impulsively brushed it back from his ear. He shivered a little at the tender touch.  
"Don't," he said quietly, pulling away. He slid out of them and they let out a soft gasp. He ran a hand over his thighs and chuckled. "You squirted all over me."  
Morgan's face flamed. "That - yeah, that happens."  
"I'll keep that in mind." His teeth were vivid in the dark room as he grinned. Morgan's heart skipped a beat. That meant a next time. That meant...doing this again, on purpose. Could they afford that? They didn't know. "Do you wanna sleep here?"  
They were suddenly so tired. "Would that be okay?"  
"Sure. Make yourself comfortable. I'm gonna go clean up. And...I need to let the dog out."  
"Okay," Morgan mumbled, already sinking back into the pillow. Before they could think any more of it, they drifted off.


End file.
